


And the stars look very different today

by lacecat



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Canon Disabled Character, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Space Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-07-29 21:06:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7699369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lacecat/pseuds/lacecat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Black Sails, Space!AU.</p>
<p>To say that there was bad blood between Captain Flint and John Silver is an understatement. When John Silver reappears on the star ship Walrus, Flint must learn to overcome the grudge he's been building for five years for the best of the pirate planet Nassau.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> [title from Space Oddity. of course.] hopefully will be updated often!

“Captain, the new crewmen have arrived.”

Flint barely resisted slamming his head on the desk in front of him, lest Billy do something ridiculous like ask him if he was okay. 

He had specifically asked the captains during their last meeting not to send him any more new recruits (especially after that particular disaster involving an ex-ensign with a smoking habit, a large amount of fuel, and a cat that tended to trip up young recruits). But Vane was still bitter about the Guthrie situation, Flint recalled, and was probably taking out his anger on Flint in the form of the torture of training new crew. 

Taking his silence in stride, Billy lightly cleared his throat. “I told DeGroot to send them back to the orbit station to await the Ranger, but he said that word on the planet is that the Fleet’s sending ships due any day now to arrest would-be recruits.”

Flint briefly considered sending a large fuck-you to Vane and letting the recruits be arrested by the Earth Fleet, but the Walrus’s crew had been running short-handed as of late, and they did need more recruits, even if they were incompetent ones. 

The captain exhaled, picked up his pen again, and glanced down at the galaxy map in front of him. “Keep them on board, but make sure they don’t even take a breath above the second deck. I don’t need any fucking novices starting any more fires. Dismissed.” 

Much to Flint’s displeasure, the quartermaster paused, not leaving the room. “Captain? There’s something else.” 

Flint ground his teeth together. “What is it, Billy?” 

“Silver’s back.”   
Startled, Flint jerked his head up to meet Billy’s look of- what the fuck? “You didn't think to fucking start with that?”    
Billy swallowed, a rare nervous gesture, suitable for Flint’s sudden wave of anger and surprise. “He must have boarded with the recruits. He’s in the mess hall now, sir.” 

Flint swore again, pushing the chair back with a heavy sound. Wisely, Billy stepped to the side as Flint marched out of his office, heading to the nearest lift. 

When Flint strode into the mess hall, he could hear Silver’s voice before seeing him. Even though he was prepared, it was still a shock to see the dark-haired man from behind, sitting on the table and evidently telling a story to a crowd of men gathered around him.

The crew that had been laughing just a moment ago suddenly fell silent at the approach of their captain. Flint could see one of the men pale, reaching out to push Silver’s shoulder so that the man too began to turn around.

Even though it had been five years since Flint had last seen John Silver, it felt like yesterday as the man turned around, fixed startlingly blue eyes on the captain’s face, and gave a smirk.

“Captain Flint,” Silver drawled, “you’re looking well.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to start to flesh out the plot/story more, but we'll see how it goes. Until then, it's basically a big experiment lol just wait until we get to the juicy details aka what happened in the five years ;)

Silver let out a sharp huff of air as Flint slammed him against the wall of the lift. “I see time has not mellowed you at all,” he said, wheezing slightly. His hands gripped at Flint’s forearm, but made no attempt to pry the other man off of him. 

Flint narrowed his eyes. “You are not welcome on my ship. Now tell me what are you doing here.” 

The ex-quartermaster raised both of his arms, releasing Flint’s arm in the process. “I know, I know. It’s been a long time, I understand. But hear me out. I’ve come across some new information about the Fleet’s plans to attack Nassau.” 

Flint didn’t release him, but eased up on the grip on his throat. “What’s to say I should believe a single word from your lips, you snake,” he growled. 

A brief look flashed through Silver’s eyes- almost hurt? “You wound me. If not for our past relationship, hear me out. I daresay you have nothing to lose, if you would just let me tell you what they’re planning.” 

Flint dropped his arm from Silver’s neck but kept a hand on the gun at his waist. “Our past relationship gives you no power over me now. I’ll hear you out, but just to get you off my fucking ship the moment you tell me everything.”

Silver gave a low chuckle, rubbing his throat absent-mindedly. “I suppose so. But you’re going to want to keep me on the ship. I’m the one who’s going to help you defeat the Fleet once and for all.” 

•••

When Flint first arrived at the planet Nassau, he had met Silver when accompanying the other captains in meeting his new crew. 

Then, Nassau was just beginning to start their long crusade in rebelling against the Earth Fleet, and there were plenty of naive, young rebels jumping at the opportunity to join the crew of the star ships. 

Even though Flint had barely gotten the chance to readjust to gravity before he joined the rebel command, as an exiled Lieutenant of the Earth Fleet, he had valuable knowledge in the inner workings of the Fleet, and both Rackham and Vane had quickly been eager for such an ally.

(“I want to watch their command be pushed out of an airlock, and have them see their own planets burn,” Flint calmly told them, not one to be diplomatic. 

Rackham merely studied him for a moment, always a quick judge of character. Vane, on the other hand, just said, “If you betray us, I’ll tear your fucking throat out myself.”) 

Once Flint convinced him of his new loyalties, he had been given the task of manning a guard ship outside of Nassau- a move guaranteed to spark the ire of the Fleet. The Walrus would eventually run into conflict with a patrol ship, and spark a war between the planets. 

As they showed him the sleek aluminum hull of the Walrus, the warp core a steady hum in the background, Flint had caught the eye of one of the crew, at the end of the line. The dark-haired man had the audacity to give a smirk at his new captain, letting his eyes move up and down Flint’s body. 

Flint frowned, turning away, and made a mental note to reassign the dark-haired man as soon as possible. In the process, he had missed the way the man’s eyes had practically glowed in the face of this new challenge. 

Rackham introduced the crew, finishing with Flint’s new quartermaster, otherwise known as John Silver. 

Silver winked at him, and Flint silently swore as he realized that it was going be much harder to displace him now, as the quartermaster was elected by the crew that Flint currently had no sway over, being a newcomer to the ship’s command. 

And then they were sent out to space, and Flint soon discovered that Silver was just as dangerous at his side, then if they were opposed. 

•••

“Let me get this straight,” Billy said, putting the piece of paper back down on the desk. “You’re saying that Silver told you that the Fleet command vessel, the Charleston, is going to be sent to Nassau with most of its command still on board.” 

Flint glanced up at Silver, lounging in the corner of his cabin. “Mr. Silver has intel to suggest that the Fleet believes Nassau to be nearly incapacitated. The Charleston is easily their strongest ship, so they would want a final crippling blow, and what better way then to subdue the citizens of Nassau then to show them the admiral himself delivering it.”

Billy scoffed, incredulous. “And you want us to intercept the ship, kill the command, and- what? Hope the Fleet doesn’t have the resources to pool together a fucking stronger blow?”

“They’re arrogant,” Flint stated, “and that is their largest weakness. If Silver’s intel proves correct, then it’s the best chance we have to end this war. I want to plot a route to intercept the Ranger and confer with Vane.”

The quartermaster dropped his voice, as if Silver wasn’t in the room and could easily hear them. “Captain, how can you trust him?” 

It was Silver who answered. “You can believe me, I’m going to be on this ship with you as you take on the Fleet. Billy, you know me, I’m not one to gamble my life. This is-” and he turned his head to meet Flint’s gaze directly, “-the best chance we’re ever going to have to end this war.” 

Flint didn’t blink. “And if he betrays us, I’ll be the first to shoot him in the head.” 

The corner of Silver’s mouth turned up in a wry smile. “Of course, captain.”


	3. Chapter 3

Once DeGroot had set a course to intercept with the Ranger, Flint retired for the night, leaving the bridge as the night crew entered. Silver was set up to be housed in the officer’s quarters, presumably where Billy could keep an eye on him, and Flint grimly reflected on the fact that he was going to sleep a lot less with the man now on his ship.

 

In his quarters, Flint unbuttoned his jacket, draping it on the back of the chair.

 

After briefly glancing at the reports from the day, he went to lie down on his bed, closing his eyes-

 

_The light around him washed the room with a muted palette of pastel color. He was in the rec room, only the furniture was set aside so that the room seemed much more expansive, the high ceiling looming over his head._

_Flint was seated on one of the plush lounges, a book on the table in front of him. Across from him, John Silver sat, legs sprawled nearly indecently, reading from another book._

_Flint could only stare- was this a dream, or a recollection of a memory? Silver looked younger, his hair short and beardless, just like the day they met. At the base of his neck, a dark bruise peeked out from beneath a uniform shirt, the peach color somehow more vibrant. As if he could hear his thoughts, Silver looked up, meeting Flint’s eyes with a tired smile. “James, at this rate, I’m going to finish my book before you for once,” he teased, thumbing the page of what looked to be an old Earth book, Shakespeare or something._

_Flint opened his mouth, but then snapped it closed, instead seeing the book in front of him glow from inside, like there were embers trapped between the pages. He reached out, instead, for Silver’s arm-_

 

And the dream ended as Flint woke up with a start to the sound of an alarm blaring. Jolting upright, he glanced over at the screen by his bed- no messages, or emergency alerts other than the screeching siren.

 

 Many years of muscle memory served him in this groggy state as he quickly pulled on his boots before rushing out to the lift.

 

Billy had beat him to the bridge already, standing behind navigation as he stared intently on the screen. The alarm suddenly cut silent as Flint strode into the room. “Report.”

 

The navigator looked up, startled. “Captain, it looks like there’s been some sort of explosion in the engine room. No injuries, but we don’t know the extent of the damage.”

 

Billy turned to face Flint. “They’re looking at it now, but it may just be an engine malfunction. We’ve stopped for now, engineering’s looking into it as we speak.”

 

The captain nodded. “The moment engineering clears all vital parts to be functioning, I want us moving again to the Ranger,” he ordered, turning to walk back into the lift.

 

As soon as the elevator door closed, Flint scrubbed a hand over his face, and pushed to button to the officer’s quarters.

 

 

•••

 

 

“You can’t believe I had something to do with- what, a broken ring? Bent screw?” Silver exclaimed, exasperated. “Captain, I’m not one to stoop to sabotage. Besides, I told you, I’m invested in the mission of this ship now.”

 

Flint turned his glare onto the other officers in the room. “Leave us, now,” he barked.

 

The officers filed out behind him, and Flint closed the door behind them. Once it was it was just them in the room, Silver’s posture relaxed, and he seemed more serious, older. Flint suddenly recalled his dream from just a few hours ago. “Flint, you must believe me. I wouldn’t-”

 

“I know,” Flint said. “It wasn’t you.”

 

Silver tilted his head, considering. “Billy said it was mechanical failure, right?” 

 

“He did.”

 

“But you don’t think so.”

 

“I know it wasn’t. Nor do most of the men, I would guess.”

 

“Why are you here talking to me?” 

 

“Because you’re the only person who I know for certain wasn’t behind the sabotage. That means you’re going to help me find out who it was.”

 

The dark haired man’s eyes practically lit up, as he stood to face Flint. “And why are you confiding in me?” He moved closer, so that Flint could feel his breath on his face. “What are you scheming?”

 

Flint looked at him straight in the eye, not budging a single inch, not letting his suddenly restless hands move. “I know you respect me too much to outwardly sabotage, even after all this time. I know you like no other on this ship. You can play whatever tune to the rest of them, but not to me. You thrive off of conflict, but you require so much more to survive. I daresay you knew that I didn’t believe you were behind it for one moment.”

 

Silver was so close now that Flint could feel the heat radiate off his body. “What’s your plan, captain?” He said in a low tone. “Are you to play me as one of your puppets again? Or are you-”

 

and just like that, heat suddenly scorched the back of Flint’s neck, and he stumbled forward, pushing Silver to the ground, as the walls around them exploded.

 

 

•••

 

 

His back was on fire, the muscles aching, and he moved his jaw briefly before there was a cool hand on his back.

 

“Flint! Fuck, fuck-” Silver’s voice somehow rang out behind him, fear tinging the words. “James, we need to go-”

 

 

and there was another loud crashing sound, and then screaming, a terrible, wrought sound, as the hand was ripped from his back.

 

 

He groaned, “Silver-”, and then black spots danced at the edges of his vision, and he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (in which Flint has many Moments™, we slowly get a piece of their backstory, and Vane is both terrible and helpful in the emotional department)
> 
> extra long update! I'll soon know how many chapters left/ect :) thank you for the kind comments/kudos!

Once he woke up, Flint groaned and slowly sat up halfway.

Looking around, he seemed to be in the medical bay, with curtains drawn closed around the cot he was lying on. Taking quick inventory of his injuries, he was remarkably unscathed, with only what felt to be bandages wrapping up his torso, and a headache creeping up behind his eyes. Reaching up, he felt his shorn hair, wincing as the edges of his fingers felt still-tender scrapes on the back of his neck, covered in some sort of salve.

The curtain rustled, and Howell, the ship doctor, hurried into the compartment. “Captain. Are you feeling any nausea, pain, or any loss of vision?” 

Flint shook his head, his mind still not fully functional. “What happened?”

Howell frowned. “There was an explosion, sir. I’ll call Billy, he’s been in command while you’ve been incapacitated.” He pressed a button, presumably to hail Billy.

“How long?” Flint asked, wincing as Howell began to prod at the back of his neck, checking the bandages as well.

“Only for a day. You have a minor concussion, and some bruised ribs, but the damage is minimal.”

Suddenly he remembered. “Silver. Where is-” but Flint was interrupted by Billy pushing open the curtain, Joji behind him. Flint could see a dozen men laid out in cots, in varying states of injury, before the curtains fluttered shut once more.

“Captain, it’s good that you’re awake,” Joji said, relief on his face clear.

Flint nodded, looking to Billy for the debrief. “It was an attack on the ship,” Billy said, his face drawn as he continued, “The damage from the first engine room blast took out a portion of our shields, we didn’t realize that it left parts of the engineering compartment vulnerable, not with the engine off.”

“The second explosion was meant to take out the officers, but only you and Mr. Silver were in the quarters. The third-”

“Christ,” Flint muttered. “Was it an external attack, from another ship?”

Billy looked uncomfortable. “No. It was the new recruits, sir. They confessed once we caught them. They’d been threatened by the Fleet at the orbit station, and carried the bombs on board for them. They’ve been dealt with now.”

The captain leaned back as Howell finished fixing the bandages. ““Message Vane, tell him of the new circumstances. We’re going back to Nassau, and will meet him there.”

Once the men left, Flint opened his eyes again, his chest tight. “Doctor. What happened to Silver?”

 The doctor looked grim. “He lost his leg. We just brought him out of surgery before you woke up. He sustained injury when dragging you out of the third blast zone, then got caught while going back in to help more of the men get out.” He tapped a syringe, then rotated Flint’s arm, mercifully not looking at the expression on Flint’s face. “This will help you rest, Captain.” 

Flint closed his eyes, willing himself not to think about John Silver. Soon after he felt the prick of the needle, he began to fall asleep, and was still not able to wish away the sight of piercing blue eyes.

 

•••

 

Once Flint was up and moving, after checking in with the bridge, he went to visit Silver. The man was still unconscious two days after the surgery, the only visible injury other than a cut on his cheek was the absence of a left leg below his knee.

_Fuck the Fleet,_ Flint thought bitterly. He was surprised at the helpless, naked rage that tore through his chest.

After he made sure the door was closed, the captain went over to clasp one of Silver’s limp hands in his own. Settling down in a chair by his bedside, he watching his eyelids twitch in some dream state, seeing his sweat-dampened hair curl slightly at the edge of his jaw and neck.

“You shit,” Flint rasped, staring at the man’s furrowed brow.

He didn’t know how long he sat there watching Silver sleep before a quiet knock on the door startled him. Getting up, Flint opened the door and was met by Billy.

The taller man nodded once towards Silver. “He still asleep?”

Flint nodded, feeling impossibly tired, and suddenly felt confined in the small room. “Howell says he’ll be awake soon.”

Before Billy could say anything else, Flint pushed by him through the door, heading back up to the bridge.

 

•••

 

Three days later, Silver was fully conscious. Flint was up in the bridge overseeing their docking at Nassau station when Howell paged him from the medical bay, that Silver was awake.

Flint watched as the numbers counted down on the panel in front of him, willing the elevator to go faster. That strange tight feeling was back in his chest, and he was out of the lift as soon as the doors opened.

Silver was wincing as Howell did something to his leg when Flint entered. The doctor glanced up, saw the expression on Flint’s face, and left quietly.

Flint was surprised at the surge of relief that coursed through his veins at seeing Silver’s bright eyes alert, and fixed on his face instantly.

The man gave a grimace, patting the bed where his leg would have been. “Howell says I’ll be able to get one of those Aerulian prosthetics. Supposedly they’re not bad for leg replacements. Hurts like nothing else, though.” Silver looked down at the bed, and his jaw tightened, a dark look on his face. 

Flint moved to stand by Silver’s bedside. He didn’t know what to say, as Silver continued to speak. “Howell filled me in some of the details- the fucking recruits, right? Can’t trust-”  

“Silver,” Flint managed to grit out, causing Silver to look up.

Silver studied his expression for one, paralyzing minute, and then a genuine smile broke out on his face. “Captain. I am glad that you're alive.”

Flint gave a small nod, then sternly said, "Make sure Howell gets you that prosthetic soon. I won't have you lazing about in a bed." As he left, he caught sight of Silver rolling his eyes, but still with that small smile. 

 

•••

 

Planet-side on Nassau, Flint had to squint, unused to the bright sunlight that was unlike the cool artificial light of the ship for the past several months. Beside him, Billy kept a careful eye on the crowds they passed through, as they headed for the large building where the other captains were.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, Flint was greeted by a quick blade to his neck, but it was retracted nearly as quickly as it came. He nodded to the red haired woman holding the knife.

Anne Bonny gave him a flat stare in return, sheathing the knife to lead them up a sturdy-looking staircase. “We’re meeting in there,” she said in a rough voice, pushing open the door.

Billy waited outside the door, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Following Bonny into the room, Flint immediately locked eyes with Charles Vane.

“Flint,” Vane said, in the way that sounded both like a greeting and a threat. “You’re late.”

Behind him, Max tossed her long dark hair in a scoff. “Mon cheri, although I hate to agree with Charles on anything, we have been waiting for quite a while. Jack has left already to oversee repairs on the station.”

Flint dragged out a chair to sit in. “I know. The Walrus is going to need some extensive repairs too.”  

Anne fixed him with an unimpressed look. “How did they manage to get a bomb on your ship, after all? That’s some fucking careless security.”

Vane cut in, “Enough. We need to talk about this intel. Jack’s source confirmed that the Charleston is due to orbit Nassau within two weeks. Will the Walrus be fixed by then?”

Flint took the papers out of his pocket that he had engineering draw up, tossing them on the table. "I would hope so."

Max glanced down at a paper in front of her with a critical eye. “Oui. We’re going to need to divert the manpower from fixing the southern generator, but it should be done by ten days.”

Vane took out his pipe, lighting it, contemplative. “That’s not a lot of fucking time.”

Flint frowned. “We need the Walrus. It’s the only dual-core ship. The Charleston will make scrap metal out of the Ranger, if that’s what you would propose.”

Vane’s fingers twitched around the pipe. “I’m not the one who nearly made my ship scrap metal. Careful, Flint.”

Max gave a weary sigh, pushing her chair back. “Enough. Tomorrow we will reconvene, set up the plans. But tonight we will drink. Flint, I heard that John Silver is back on your ship, non?”  

At the mention of Silver’s name, Vane’s eyes lit up with an unholy gleam, and he turned to Flint. “Silver, eh? I would’ve thought you’d bring him instead of that hulking one. Are you two in some sort of quarrel-”

“He’s been injured,” Flint said, cutting Vane off with a glare. “He’s on the Walrus still.”

Vane chucked, smoke pouring out from the corner of his mouth. “Hopefully not to much damage that pretty face of his. I thought you were done with him for a long time now.” 

Flint couldn’t help the low growl from his throat. “It’s none of your fucking business, Vane. Besides, I thought you were done with Eleanor Guthrie-”

Vane’s pipe dropped, and that was the only warning Flint received before Vane launched his fist at Flint’s jaw, knocking him off of his chair. They wrestled on the ground, Flint landed a solid punch in Vane’s nose that knocked him over. Vane gurgled, nose dripping blood, and reached to grab Flint by the throat, and Flint kicked him in the thigh as they grappled.

“Enough.” Anne Bonny’s voice cut through their fight, or, rather, so did the two knives that suddenly appeared, nicking Vane’s ear and pinning Flint by his collar to the floor. Vane rolled away from him, and Flint ripped his shirt free from the blade.

The red haired woman gave them both a cold glare. “You’re fucking idiots,” she said, picking up both of her knives. “Max, I’ll see you tonight.”

 The other woman nodded, watching Anne leave the room with a soft look in her eye before glaring at the two men on the ground. “Idiots,” she spat, pushing by Billy, who had burst in through the door and now looked helpless, glancing between Vane and Flint.

Vane tilted his head back and made a disgusting sound as he wiped blood from his face. Flint readjusted his shirt, now torn down the back. "Leave us, Billy," Flint said, keeping his eyes on Vane.

The long haired captain gave a low chuckle. “John Silver.”

Flint glared, even if the heat was mostly gone from the look. “Shut the fuck up.”

Vane got up, then offered a hand up to Flint. Dragging another chair to the table, he poured two glasses of the whiskey in the corner, offering one to Flint. The whiskey was not particularly good, burning a hot line down Flint’s throat, but he drank it all the same.

Vane picked up his pipe once more, taking a puff from it. “It’s been five years since he left you. What’s he come back for?”

At Flint’s pointed glare, he lifted a hand. “Before you attack me, I haven’t forgotten how you showed me Eleanor’s true ways. I ask as a friend.”

Flint looked at him, then took another heavy gulp before answering. “When I first met him,” he started, carefully considering before the words came out of his mouth, “I saw who he was. Selfish, vain, all matter of useless. But five years ago, he was someone else.” _He scared me._ “With me, he became someone else. He wasn’t the same man.” _I loved him._ “Now I don’t know who he is.” Flint lowered his gaze into the cup of whiskey. “I don’t know what he can do.”

Vane gave a gruff laugh. “Now that I can relate to. It's the ones that get close that hurt you.” He clinked his glass to the side of Flint’s and downed it, Flint soon following suit. “Now we should head downstairs or Max’ll have our heads.” 

 

 

•••


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the comments y'all! I love to read them even if I don't get around to answering them right away :) 
> 
> (on a separate note, I'm still emotionally ruined by black sails. I'm rewatching season 3 and counting down the days to season 4!!!)

•••

 

Several days later, Nassau had gone from relatively calm to being in full war preparations. Everywhere Flint went, people were working on repairing ships, building protective measures on the capital, and even stockpiling food to prepare for any sort of siege. 

 

One evening, glancing up at the workers fixing the hull of the Walrus in the fading light, Flint was deep in thought when a voice surprised him. 

 

“Evening, Captain,” Silver said, hobbling his way to Flint’s side. His beard was unkempt, but the bags under his eyes were somewhat reduced, his eyes clearer but less light-hearted.

 

He was also using a crutch still, but what surprised Flint were the whirling sounds and shiny metal of his apparently new prosthetic leg. Flint glanced down at it. “I see Howell made an arrangement with the Aerulians for you.” 

 

Silver smirked. “Not too much of a sore sight, right? Reminds me of the Walrus a bit.” He tapped the metal, carved so that it looked almost perfectly fitted around his knee, and flexed his leg slightly. “Still need the fucking crutch though.” 

 

The captain nodded, seeing the faint resemblance, and turned to face him fully. “I spoke with the other captains today. The Walrus is ahead of schedule on repairs.”

 

Silver leaned on the railing next to him, and they both looked up at the metal filings gently raining down on the ground below from the side of the ship. After a while, Silver broke the silence. “You’ve been avoiding me.” 

 

Flint’s reaction was to first deny it, but glancing at Silver, he realized that he couldn’t. “I have. But I’ve also been busy.” 

 

A frustrated sound emerged from Silver’s throat when Flint didn’t elaborate. “Billy told me that you apparently don’t sleep much, while we’re at it, and if you’re not at Vane’s throat, then at the men’s for any little thing. ”

 

The captain scoffed. “Billy needs to mind his business. We’re going to war soon. We need to be ready, and it’s my job to make sure that we’re not charging into this ill prepared.” He turned away again, trying to ignore him. The sun sank furthur into the distance, so that the men were only faintly illuminated by the mechanical lamps high above them. 

 

“I think you’re uncomfortable around me,” Silver continued, like Flint didn’t even speak. “We may have been apart, but I still know you.” He took half a step closer to Flint, his arm brushing against the other man’s. “Do you really think that Billy challenges you?”

 

“Careful”, Flint growled. “He’s my quartermaster. You’re just a fucking snake who climbed aboard the first ship to save his own skin.”

 

Silver’s eyes darkened, and he moved impossibly closer. “I may be the snake, but I’m the reason you’re alive.” He paused for a brief moment, and Flint, momentarily lost, couldn’t read his expression in the dim light. “No one told you exactly how I lost my leg, did he?” 

 

Flint frowned. “Howell told me it was one of the explosions.” 

 

The other man gave a bitter laugh that sent chills down the captain’s spine. “The first one that hit us, you caught most of it. I dragged you out of the quarters, but not before I came across some of the perpetrators.” 

 

Flint’s blood ran cold, then suddenly he felt the familiar heat of rage in his chest. He swallowed, barely keeping his anger in check so he could manage to reply, “You confronted them?”

 

Silver broke eye contact with Flint, moving away to look up at the Walrus once more. “I did,” he confirmed, his voice low. “They offered to leave with just you. Said that you were worth plenty to the Fleet, apparently, and that they would leave the ship if they brought you back.” He gave an almost imperceptible shudder, that Flint only caught because he was staring intently at the ex-quartermaster’s profile. “Then they naturally got violent when I refused.”

 

Something ugly furled in the captain’s chest. “They tortured you,” he said quietly. 

 

Silver stared hard at the top of the railing, his hand drifting the run along the ridges of the prosthetic. “I shot one of them. But there were more. The noise must’ve alerted some sensor on the ship, so they only had time to... to take one leg. Some of your crew came across us, and they set off more explosives. I saw you lying there,” and Silver’s head swung down, suddenly, as if hurt, “and I thought to myself, what a way to go. Dying alongside fucking James Flint, like some old Earth romance. Only I didn’t take into account being in so much pain, or actually living to tell the tale. To you, no less.”

 

Flint studied his profile, then surprised himself and Silver by moving to clasp Silver’s forearm. The other man, briefly stunned, moved to clasp his forearm as well. “Thank you,” Flint told him, honest. 

 

Silver swallowed, making eye contact with Flint finally. His eyes were red-rimmed, and Flint’s gaze softened, allowing his thumb to gently brush Silver’s arm.

 

The dark haired man jerked his arm away suddenly. “So that’s why I don’t want you to fucking throw your life away,” he snapped. “You need me, and you need to figure out how to reconcile your feelings towards me so that you don’t end up killing the entire crew.” And with that, Silver pushed away from the railing, using the crutch to walk away.

 

Flint watched him leave, his silhouette a proud, angry figure marching away, without a word. As if he had been reminiscing, a memory came to the front of his mind, from more than half a decade ago.

 

_“Captain,” a voice rang out in the small room, “The men are getting restless without their leave.”_

 

_Flint looked up to see John Silver enter the room with a sly smile on his face. “Tell them that they’ll have their time on Maroon when we get there. For now, I need them sharp,” he ordered, “We’re getting close to Fleet territory.”_

 

_His quartermaster leaned against his desk, craning his head to see what Flint was working on. “Are those the Urca de Lima drives?” he asked, studying the engraved disks. “My translation skills are rusty. Did you keep those from the last capture?”_

 

_Flint swept away the drives with an annoyed look, putting them in a drawer. “They’re none of your business,” he said with a scowl. “You need to mind your own business, Mr. Silver.”_

 

_Silver’s eyes were lit up with interest, and he took the opportunity not to leave, but to plop down in the chair opposite the desk. “You know, when we first met, I thought that you were merely private, a mystery in the form of man, something that the cosmos could not decide themselves,” he said, almost idly. “But now I’ve realized something else.”_

 

_Flint gave a noncommittal grunt, forcing himself to stare down at the screen in front of him. “That you’ve always been an annoying shit that for some reason has been voted quartermaster?_

 

_“That you’re not so much a mystery to me, at least, not anymore,” Silver continued. “But if anything, that makes you more intriguing to me. You’ve lost a great love,” and Flint’s eyes snapped up to meet Silver’s, “but instead of letting that wound heal, you force yourself to claw it open, I suspect, every day that you breathe. While you’re a brilliant tactician, you will stubbornly cling to your beliefs at any expense.You’re downright vicious, and you live in a constant state of wrath, but your fear is that the men out there see you as a villain, that you become the monster that you seek to destroy.”_

 

_Flint took a shallow breath, already too aware of the raw look on his face. The air in the room seemed heavy, still, as he took in Silver’s cautious expression. “And you,” he said, hoarse. “What do you see me as?”_

 

_Silver studied his face for a moment, then rose. Flint was briefly- afraid? hopeful?- that he is going to leave, but instead, Silver walked around the desk, got between Flint’s knees and the hard wood of the drawers, and put a steady hand on his jaw. “I know you’re something to me,” he whispers, surprisingly quiet, and Flint closed his eyes as Silver’s lips met his._

 

_They kissed softly at first, but then Silver ran his teeth down Flint’s lower lip, put his tongue in his mouth, and it turned into something more urgent, aggressive. Flint grabbed his hips to get him closer, and Silver, between Flint’s knees now, manages to get the buttons on Flint’s uniform to open, revealing firm, freckled flesh._

 

_As Silver’s tongue mapped his collarbone and neck, Flint pushed him away for a second. Standing up, Flint took Silver’s hand, and with a look, led him to the bed in his quarters, where they forget about running the ship for some time._

 

_What Flint doesn’t know, not then, is not only the extent of his emotional attachment to John Silver, but also the events that transpire right after he fell asleep, later that night._

 

_Pausing as he walked by the desk on his way out, Silver went over to the drawer, opening it to reveal the Urca de Lima’s hard drives. He took one fond look at the sleeping Flint, rationalized that he will return the drives as soon as he satisfies his personal curiosity, and took them back to his own quarters._

 

_•••_

 

Flint watched as Silver’s figure disappeared into the distance, and stayed outside by the Walrus until the moon was high in the sky, deep in thought once more.

 

•••

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally getting to the good stuff! as always, thanks for the kudos/comments/silent love :)
> 
> another update coming very soon!

•••

 

The next day, when Flint walked off the Walrus, Jack Rackham was waiting for him at the bottom of the steps of the gangway. 

 

“Captain Flint.” Jack tilted his head, and Flint gave a brusque nod in return. It had been a long night, as the captain had tossed and turned instead of sleeping, thinking of the sight of Silver’s angry back walking away the entire night. “I was hoping to have a moment to speak with you.” 

 

Flint squinted at him, not saying a word, until Jack gave a huff of annoyance. “I’d forgotten your particular brand of manners. All right, then. We need to talk about the upcoming attack, this battle that you and Vane are so ready to start-”

 

“Not here,” Flint hissed, taking a step closer to Jack. “We’ll go to the tavern.”

 

Jack rolled his eyes. “All of this secrecy. Do you honestly believe that the Fleet has no idea of the upcoming attack, by now?” he asked, following Flint down the bridge from the docking station and into the main public area. 

 

Flint kept up a brisk pace, forcing Jack to fall in half a step behind him as they cut through a crowd. “I’m well aware of that possibility. However, I still don’t wish to discuss anything in plain sight with you,” Flint replied testily. “You couldn’t have met with Max or Anne to discuss these matters?” 

 

“Max and Anne won’t be leading the charge, Flint,” Jack replied smoothly. “Besides, we haven’t spoken since you’ve docked. I thought we might catch up.”

 

Flint turned to face him, stopping at the entrance of the tavern, incredulous. Jack amended his previous statement. “Or, well, share the state of affairs between your ship and mine.” 

 

Flint chose not to answer, instead shouldering open the door. Inside the tavern, the midday light filtered in through a few shuttered windows, the air already smoky and scented of strong spirits. The captains found their way to a small table in the corner of the bar, sitting down adjacent from each other. 

 

Jack undid the top button on his brightly printed jacket, stretching the collar slightly. Flint was suddenly struck by the memory of wearing a dark red Fleet collar, not unlike the color of Jack’s current jacket. The other captain continued, “Anne is concerned that if Eleanor Guthrie pops up on the Charleston, Charles is going to be compromised.”

 

Flint leaned forward, his eyes trained on Jack. “I thought she was still a prisoner back on some Fleet colony.” 

 

Jack waited until the bartender set two full glasses of dark liquor in front of them before answering. “She was. After she- well, after she betrayed Charles- thoroughly destroying him, I might add- Fleet command took notice apparently. She spent less than a solar rotation on some ice planet before they snatched her up. Enough time for her to fester in hatred towards Vane and the rest of us to grab the opportunity to watch the Charleston blow us all up, I wager.” 

 

Flint watched him take a sip of his drink. “And you think that the Fleet will use this to manipulate Vane.”

 

Jack grimaced. “I know you were a Fleet man once. I think you know better than I that the Fleet would drag Eleanor Guthrie out of whatever hole in a heartbeat for the small chance that Vane might hesitate to order the trigger to be pulled if it was her on that ship.”

 

Out of some suddenly strange sense of loyalty, Flint felt the need to argue, to defend Vane’s emotional response, but instead, he said, “I presume you have a plan to keep Vane in check.”

 

Jack gave a small smile, but it was an unhappy one. “Of course. That’s why I brought you here, of course. It’s going to involve your quartermaster. And-” and Jack craned his head, looking behind Flint, “your old friend there.”  


“Old friend?” Flint barked out before suddenly falling silent at the sight of John Silver sliding into a chair between Rackham and himself. 

 

“Captains,” Silver said, addressing them both, but his eyes were fixed on Flint. “I see Captain Rackham has mentioned the new plan.” 

 

Flint looked between Jack and Silver, feeling anger knot beneath his breastbone. “Now tell me,” he said in an icy tone, taking satisfaction in the way that Jack flinched just slightly, “When did you two start to conspire together?”

Silver gave a slight snort, to Flint’s displeasure, unaffected by Flint’s glare. “Captain Rackham here only told me this morning of his plan. I presume he’s already told you of his concern with Captain Vane and Miss Guthrie?”  


Breathing slowly out through his nose to avoid losing his temper, Flint kept a sharp look on Silver, as he processes Jack’s words before Silver had come over. “You’re suggesting that I- what? Take Billy off the Walrus and station him with Vane like some sort of failsafe?” 

 

“He’s well-liked even among the Ranger’s crew, and we all know that Billy is loyal nearly to a fault to you,” Jack said, eyeing Flint’s glass as if he was bracing himself for Flint to use it as a weapon against him or Silver. “Mr. Silver here suggested that he become quartermaster in Billy’s place. That is, if the crew agree to vote him in.” 

 

Flint let out an mean chuckle. “Oh, I’m sure Mr. Silver here can manipulate my crew into voting him in quite easily,” he said, almost quietly. Silver’s eyes still were boring into his from across the table, for once not saying a word. 

 

Jack cleared his throat. “We’ll need to tell Vane something, of course. I thought-” and Jack’s eyes flit between the two of them briefly, as if especially careful with his words, “Due to your history together, we could come up with a narrative that even Vane might believe.”

 

Silver’s jaw tensed, as Flint’s mouth twisted up in a grin, his chest twisting as he spoke. “You mean telling Vane that I am some sort of insatiable beast that would throw his own quartermaster away to another ship in order to keep my needs satisfied, my quartermaster close at hand, you mean.” 

 

Jack winced, apologetic. “You wouldn’t be the first captain to do such things in the name of lust. It would certainly be believable-” 

 

“No.” Silver’s voice cut through Jack’s, and both captains turned to look at him. “No,” he repeated, glaring at Jack. “You’re going to come up with another story to tell Vane.”

 

Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “Mr. Silver, I-”  


“You’re not going to reduce Captain Flint’s name in this way,” Silver told him, his tone calm, but Flint could hear the steel beneath his words, the dark edge that made it clear that he was unyielding. “Tell Vane that I made the crew turn against Billy, or whatever the fuck else.” 

 

Rackham sputtered, but the dark haired man rose, pushing the chair behind him with a loud sound. “I’m sure you’ll be able to come up with another tale,” Silver said, giving a slight sneer, and Flint could feel his blood pound hard as they both watched the man turn and limp out.

 

Jack made an incredulous sound, saying what sounded like “Typical,” under his breath, as Flint got up and followed Silver out of the tavern.

 

•••

 

_They had been floating in deep space for several weeks, the days long and unbroken without any fights. The Walrus churned on day and night, the engine a constant hum in the background, and the bridge screens showed nothing but the empty vast space ahead of them._

 

_Instead of arguing over philosophical approaches to the war, as previous nights had entailed for the two of them, now Flint spent his nights with Silver in more mutually satisfying way._

 

_One night had seen Silver seated in the captain’s chair, the bridge empty except for Flint on his knees before him. As Flint took him deeper into his mouth, Silver’s fingers scratching through the base of his neck. The dark haired man moaned, watching as Flint’s mouth stretched around him, and Flint had to shut his eyes, his body trembling at the delicious sounds that Silver was making above him, the feel of him on his tongue making his blood sing like after a won fight._

 

_Afterwards, as Flint lay breathless, straddling Silver who was still in the chair, his tongue felt loose as he rested a cheek against the crook of his quartermaster’s neck. “I think we have a spy on our ship,” he said into soft skin._

_  
Silver stiffened slightly, which Flint interpreted as surprise. “What makes you say that?” He asked, turning his head more so that his lips were over Flint’s ear._

 

_“That battle from a few weeks back, with that Fleet ship. After we won, when I went through their ship logs, they had some strange markings on a map. Today, I realized that those markings were coordinates of a path.”_

 

_“The Walrus,” Silver murmured, contemplative. “Do you have any suspicions on who it might be?”_

 

_“Not yet. We’ll have to be vigilant in coming days. But enough-” and Flint pressed his face, feeling content, more into Silver’s neck. “of that for now.”_

 

_Silver’s hands moved softly up and down his sides, and Flint resigned himself to stiff joints from the awkward position, if just to keep this quiet peace in that moment._

 

_Unseen to him, Silver’s eyes remained open, staring blankly into the distance. He was quite aware of the spy, and already, a plan began to from in his mind._

 

•••

 

Flint found Silver not far from where they had been the previous night. Following him out of the tavern, he had kept his distance, watching as Silver eventually made his way to one of the empty loading docks. 

 

Nassau’s loading station was a tall, rickety tower of many layers, stretching far away from the capital. Silver was sitting on the edge of one of the docks that jutted out from underneath the gangway leading inside the ship. His feet dangled over the edge of the metal dock, face drawn tight, deep in thought. 

 

Below him was a crevasse-like pit large enough to hold many ships of the Walrus’s size as they were prepared to be launched into space. The ship could nearly be seen in full from here, attached with metal hooks to one of the larger stations, the preparations nearly done for their voyage. Nassau had been a mining planet when it was under Fleet rule, and the cliff faces were full of tunnels that had been converted to loading stations and docking points for ships. 

 

Below the dock, Flint stared up at the man’s figure for a moment before shaking his head, climbing up the steps until he was near where Silver sat. 

 

Walking over, he sat down next to him. For a while, they both listened to the sounds of metal clanging, both from the workers on the Walrus, as well as the small sounds that Silver’s prosthetic leg made when he shifted his weight slightly. 

 

The captain spoke first, when it was clear that Silver, now staring down at his leg, was not willing to. “Despite everything that happened between the two of us, I’m not ashamed of who we were.”

 

Silver looked up then, surprised for a brief moment. Then his gaze darkened again, and he looked down. “I know that.” His jaw clenched, as if to stop more words from spilling out for a moment, but then added, “I’m sorry for meeting with Rackham behind your back. Believe me, there was no malicious intent.”

 

One of Flint’s hands clenched from where it laid on the dock, then relaxed. “It’s what needed to be done.”

 

Silver shifted his weight so that his metal leg rested more firmly on the dock, and Flint adjusted his own position accordingly so that they were curved into each other to speak. 

 

“He thinks that we might have a chance to win against the Charleston, with you and I leading the front line. He thinks that,” and Silver paused for the briefest of moments, “Despite our time apart, we are each other’s strongest allies.” 

 

“Tell me why.” The words fell out of Flint’s mouth, and Silver’s leg fell against the dock with an loud clang of metal against metal. “Tell me why you did it.”

 

Silver closed his eyes for a brief moment, swallowing. “You’re not talking about meeting with Rackham, are you,” he whispered. 

 

“No,” Flint said steadily, looking at Silver until the man opened his eyes again and made eye contact. “You said to me last night that we needed to reconcile our feelings for each other. Tell me why you left.” 

 

_Left me, broke my heart, my trust._

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

Silver blinked, and Flint stared at the curve of a stray eyelash on the top of his cheekbones before even realizing what he was doing. 

 

“I left because what I had done, what I would have done for you, it would have been unbearable for you to let happen and for me to live with,” the quartermaster admitted, with an exhale. “I left because I couldn’t wake up and lie to your face another morning.”

 

Flint tilted his chin up, a challenging gesture. “How much?” 

 

“How much what?” 

 

“How much did they pay you?” 

 

Silver exhaled, stunned. “I can’t believe you.”

 

The all too familiar heat of anger flushed through Flint’s entire body. “You can’t fucking believe me? I ask for your honestly, and what I get-” Flint began to sit up more, to get up, but Silver grabs his arm. 

 

“James, wait-” Silver urged, his eyes suddenly widening in understanding. “You seriously believe I accepted money for the information on the Urca de Lima?” 

 

Flint averted his gaze, and Silver gave another frustrated exhale. “You bastard,” he muttered, and that was the only warning Flint got before Silver leaned in and placed his lips over Flint’s. 

 

He moved softly, reaching a hand to rest gently on a frozen Flint’s face. His lips were warm and chapped, and Flint could still smell smoke vaguely on his hair, likely from the tavern earlier. 

 

Breaking the short kiss, Silver studied his eyes. “I didn’t take a cent for the information, James,” and it was the usage of Flint’s name that caused him to finally move, reeling back away from Silver’s hand. 

 

“It doesn’t matter,” Flint managed to bite out, Silver’s expression now one of hurt, and that small, vicious part of Flint rejoiced in the hurt he was causing. “You fucking went behind my back, and you betrayed me. They warned me about you, that you would as soon maneuver your way, manipulate me, in any way-“

 

“Jesus!” Silver exploded. “Like you’ve been some fucking saint all this time! You were going to use the information on that drive to drive all of us to our ruin. You were going to wage war on a Fleet battleship, for what? Some prize to make us fabulously rich? Or was it personal this time, some sort of revenge plot-“  


 

Flint’s shoulders hunched in on themselves. “Enough,” he growled, and Silver’s jaw clicked shut with an audible sound. “You’re right. I wasn’t after the Urca. I wanted revenge for everything the Fleet had taken me. But you had no right to crawl into my bed, to whisper into my ear one moment and become a spy for the Fleet in the same breath.”

 

Silver swung his arms back, pushing himself up to a standing position. “I can’t believe you,” he said, incredulous. “I was no fucking Fleet spy.”

 

Flint too rose, taking a step forward until he was in “You told them our positions,” he hissed, “and you fled as soon as they attacked us for the disks.” 

 

“Singleton was the spy,” Silver spit at him, “and I ran a blade through him the moment I discovered him during the attack that night.” 

 

_Singleton._ It took a moment for the captain to recall, but then he remembered the man. He had been unpleasant, but good with a firearm. Flint had always assumed that he had been one of the casualties of the Fleet’s attack on the Walrus, before the Ranger had come in with reinforcements to chase the ships out of Nassau’s orbit. 

 

“Then why did you leave?” Flint said, anger knotting in his chest. “Does the snake have an explanation for everything?” 

 

“I left because whenever you looked at me, you saw Thomas Hamilton!” Silver shouted, and _oh_. Flint took in those words in a stunned moment, suddenly seeing Silver’s red-rimmed eyes, his clenched fists. “I knew it could never last. I gave you everything, but you wouldn’t let me in. You _couldn’t_. And after Miranda died-“ and Flint flinched, guilt crawling up his throat, “-I had to leave. I couldn’t stand being the replacement.”

 

Hurt replaced the anger in his chest, and Flint’s mouth parted, as he quietly said, “You were never a replacement.” 

 

Silver scoffed, twisting his head away from Flint to stare out into the distance. “You don’t need to comfort me with lies, captain.” 

 

For all the tales that Flint knew surrounded him as the dreaded pirate captain of the starship Walrus, the stories had mostly focused on his rage, his cunning, his intensity. Those images gave life to tales, but what was less likely to inspire fear among the hearts of the Fleet soldiers was the fact that he was a pessimist, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

 

When Thomas had been alive, at the peak of their relationship, he and Miranda had begged the then-Lieutenant James McGraw to take them up into space in a Fleet sloop, both wanting to watch bright flares of comets pass them by, thrilled by the prospect of leaving the planet for once not for travel. 

 

Then, his life had been simpler. James had been caught between the urge to please his lovers and the need to keep them safe within the confines of planetary gravity. He had argued that space travel was always dangerous, and the Fleet would not take kindly for the lieutenant to risk the lives of two royals, let alone if they had known the truth about their relationship. 

 

But as James spoke, Thomas was not quite able to hide the disappointment on his face, and taking one look at Miranda’s expression, James knew that he would acquiesce, for they owned his heart. 

 

He had taken them up on an unsanctioned trip during a guard change, piloting the small vessel himself. Even as he enjoyed himself, watching Miranda and Thomas press their faces against the thick glass of the bridge, both quoting old Earth poetry on the wonders of the galaxies, there had been a pit in his stomach. Even as James relaxed externally, enjoying the sight of his lovers’ happiness, he had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

Then Thomas had been taken away from them, by the Fleet, and James and Miranda had become exiles. Flint had been born from the heartbreak of James McGraw, burning the man up until he rose from the ashes of the lieutenant like some sort of vengeful phoenix. He had joined the pirates of Nassau, used his darkness to propel his revenge forward, until the fire of his rage had eventually consumed Miranda as well, leaving him adrift in his hate. 

 

Then he had Silver, who not only saw Flint in his darkness, but served as an anchor. Butwhen he thought Silver was soothing the flames, he had been hiding them, and when he left Flint on that terrible night, and Flint had realized that Silver had betrayed him, the flames came back to burn him. 

 

And all that Flint could think then was that he had known that this was an outcome to be expected, that he should have seen past whatever growing feelings, should have seen Silver for who he truly was.

But standing there now, Flint could see Silver’s shoulders shaking, as if he was ready to bolt. Those same shoulders he had kissed in quiet hours, had leaned on. The significance of the moment was not lost on him. Even if the other shoe was to drop, he couldn’t live without it.

 

With that realization, Flint swallowed, repeated himself. “You were never a replacement.”  


 

Silver’s head turned back, and he growled, “I said don’t lie-“ 

 

“You are no Thomas,” Flint interrupted him, the words suddenly pouring out. “You never were. God, when I first saw you, I couldn’t believe that you had somehow made it to become quartermaster. I thought you were just like the others, swayed by wealth or lust or empty promises. But you saw through me, and when I looked, I saw you through too. I loved you,” and Flint’s throat tightened, but he blinked hard, the emotion still true, “and I will always love you. I will always love Thomas. But you have kept my heart in your hands. I used to believe that I would be the end of you, like I led to the end of Thomas, to Miranda, but it’s clear to me now that you may as well be my end. And I not only accept that, I want that. I want you, in any way, and whatever that entails.” 

 

The quartermaster was uncharacteristically silent, now fully facing Flint, his jaw slightly open. His bright blue eyes were wide, boring into Flint’s, unidentifiable emotion flitting through his features. 

 

Even though Flint always acknowledged the worse outcome of any situation, had to see its viability in order to prepared, he was unable to process any outcome from this one, instead only knowing that this would be a decisive moment. 

 

Taking a step forward, Flint slowly brought both hands up to Silver’s face, on either side of his jaw, still watching Silver. 

 

When the quartermaster didn’t pull away, Flint made his decision, leaning down and closing his eyes, until he felt Silver’s lips under his own. 

 

There was a roaring in his ears, and Silver let out a shaky breath, similar to their previous kiss, until Silver’s lips moved under his own with a groan, and suddenly it was entirely unlike the other kiss. 

 

Flint clung to his face, and as their mouths worked together, as he greedily memorized the sensation of Silver’s beard under his fingers, the way his lower lip moved in delicious friction against Flint’s lips. 

 

They stayed pressed together until Silver tilted his head back enough to break the kiss, still looking in Flint’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, a breath across Flint’s lips, and Flint pressed his lips against Silver’s jaw. “I’m sorry,” he said again, as Flint pressed his nose into the crook of his neck. “I’m sorry.” 

It was nowhere near enough, as Flint ached for something he didn’t know if Silver could ever give him, but it was everything in that moment.

 

 

_••••_

 

 

After they found their way onto the Walrus, blessedly free of crewmen at the time, after they stumbled into the captain’s quarters like young lovers, and after Flint had pressed Silver into the sheets like he had never left, committing the feeling of his body to memory all over again, after Silver had left marks from his fingers and his mouth all over his body, as if laying claim to more than his heart, they laid side by side in Flint’s bed.

 

The artificial light was dimmed, and Flint could only see the vague outline of Silver’s profile from this angle without getting up to get a better look of his face. The sheets were tangled near their feet, and the cool metal of Silver’s prosthetic, that Flint had just helped him slip off, was pressed against Flint’s calf. 

 

The quartermaster stared up at the ceiling, sweat cooling on his bare torso, and Flint waited. 

 

“The reason I didn’t want Rackham to spin a tale to Vane that I would be replacing Billy as quartermaster due to our personal relationship was because I didn’t want to be another Hamilton,” Silver revealed in a quiet tone. 

 

Flint sucked in a breath, and Silver turned to face him. “I knew that the Fleet used your relationship with Thomas, with Miranda, as an easy way to get rid of all of you. I couldn’t be another piece of that puzzle, for our relationship to be defiled in that way, to hurt you.”

 

“Charles Vane is no Fleet in that regard,” Flint replied. “He knows of the nature of our relationship, and he certainly has no qualms about it.” Two men together was treated as a relatively normal arrangement to most pirates, unlike the Fleet, which still managed to adhere to archaic Earth beliefs. Sometimes, Flint wondered how they were able to travel through galaxies, yet still not embrace love in all manifestations. 

 

The dark haired man twisted his mouth. “I know that. But the men will talk. Any time it is up to question if I am able to stand up to you as quartermaster, it will undoubtably be used against us, especially if I am to be in your bed.”

 

Flint grew cold suddenly, and he moved away. Silver’s brow furrowed in confusion as Flint said, staring hard at the ceiling, “I place no expectation to come along with your title of quartermaster. We can forget about this,” and he gestured at their bodies, the crumpled sheets , “I do not expect you to be in my bed as some sort of necessity.” The words are bitter in his mouth. 

 

“Is that what you want?” Silver’s voice was still so quiet, and Flint considered lying. It would likely be less painful that way.

 

But his voice is equally as quiet as he turns towards Silver again. “No,” Flint admitted. “I want you. My words from earlier stand true.”

 

Silver surged closer to him, then, pressing his lips firmly to Flint’s, and Flint shuddered under his touch. “I want to be with you,” he said between kisses, desperate until Flint kissed him back, slower this time, and they trade lazy kisses until sleep claims them both.

 

That night, Flint dreamed of flames licking at his feet, but he didn't feel any pain. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next, get ready for some battle action (I would say less of the emotional revelations, but let's be honest, it's always going to be this sappy)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, I lied, no battle action quite yet, I've decided to split the story up slightly differently than previously planned. here's to space pirates!

•••

 

There was a knock at the door, and Flint set down the holographic pad he had been poring over. 

 

For a brief moment, he wondered if it was Silver, who had left him earlier that morning to hold the official vote to elect him quartermaster, but then he remembered that Silver was never one to knock. “Enter,” he called out. 

 

The door opened, and Billy stepped into the room. “Captain,” he said with a flat expression, closing the door behind him. 

 

“I take it that Silver has already told you of your relocation,” Flint said, pushing the pad away. 

 

The tall man nodded, glancing around the room as he answered. “He did. He also said that I’m the one to watch Vane, in case Eleanor Guthrie is on board the Charleston.” 

 

The captain leaned back in his chair, watching Billy look around. “And you find problem with that?” Flint asked. 

 

Billy’s mouth twitched, and he looked directly at Flint finally. “My concern is not with Vane. It’s with you.” 

 

“Me?” Flint said, almost laughing, until he saw that Billy was serious. “What do you mean?” 

 

The man bit his lip, as if exceedingly careful of what his next words were, and Flint suddenly realized the words coming from his mouth before he even replied. “Silver is to be your quartermaster once more. You and Silver, you’ve got history, and I understand that. I don’t know what you are to each other now, but I think while you are understandably worried about Vane, you don’t realize that you’re in the same situation as him.” 

 

The words hit Flint, and he felt something in his gut churn. “As who, Vane?” Billy’s lips tightened into a flat line in response. “Billy, let me assure you, the relationship between Silver and I is in no way like between Vane and Eleanor Guthrie.” 

 

But the excuse felt even flat to Flint’s own ears, and he was not surprised to see that it gave no comfort to Billy. The man shook his head. “No, it’s not,” he replied, “That is what worries me. I should depart for the Ranger now.” 

 

The captain nodded, and before he left, Billy added, “The crew voted Silver in, by the way. Unanimously.”

 

Flint watched him go without another word.

 

 

•••

 

 

The first alarm went off in the late afternoon, and the loud tones of Nassau’s guard brought Flint to the bridge of the Walrus. 

 

Silver was already there, and he looked at Flint when he exited the lift. “The sentry ship in the upper quadrant sighted the Charleston plus other ships approaching thirteen minutes ago. They’re expected to be within Nassau’s orbit in an hour at current velocity.”

 

Flint made a low noise in the back of his throat at the sight of the Fleet vessels appearing on the screen in front of him, even though they were mere grainy images from ships far away. Still, deadly ships hurtling towards Nassau at that very moment. “I want the engines on. Tell the gun crews to prepare to shoot first, starting with the main cannons. We’re heading up there as soon as I confirm with Vane.”

 

The quartermaster nodded, striding forward to direct the men at their screens. Flint sat down in the captain’s chair and brought up a transmission with Vane in a few moments.

 

On the screen, Vane appeared grim. “The number of ships is within your new quartermaster’s estimate, just on the high end.”  


 

“How many?” Flint asked, as he brought up a map of the space directly outside of the planet on the screen beside the video. 

 

“Half a dozen sloops, two-thousand men, plus the Charleston with full crew.”  


 

“And Guthrie?” Flint’s voice was sharp. 

 

The man on the screen barely hesitated. “No one’s seen her-“ 

 

Flint glanced back at the video just to see the connection fade and turn to static. “What happened to my feed?” he barked out at one of the ensigns. 

 

The man looked pale, tapping rapidly at his own screen. “I don’t know, sir. It seems to be from Captain Vane’s end.” 

 

Silver was then suddenly at Flint’s side, his hand on the back of the chair. “Captain, we’ve just received confirmation that the Ranger has been hit.” 

 

Flint swore. “Who the fuck hit them?” He tapped on the screen, changing the view of the large screen in front of them to show the crevasse where the ships were all docked. 

 

Indeed, the Ranger was engulfed in a plume of smoke, dangerously tilting as bright lights flashed around it.

 

“It seems to be an attack from the Nassau docking station, captain,” DeGroot said, scanning the text on his screen. “According to initial reports, it was from the cannons on the loading dock.”

 

Flint’s blood ran cold. If their station was already hijacked without their knowledge, it did not bode well for the battle they were facing. “I want an open transmission to the other captains now,” Flint ordered at the communications officer.

 

Muldoon complied, and soon the faces of Bonny and Max filled his screen.

 

“It was Eleanor,” Max said, her face tight. “She knows the Ranger as well as Vane. It seems she managed to infiltrate the dock, and fired on the Ranger as it was ready to launch.” 

 

Anne Bonny spoke up, seeming to be located outside given the background on her video stream. “How the fuck did she manage to get onto Nassau at all?” 

 

“I don’t know. Right now it looks like the Fleet had some form of high-tech cloaking technology on one of their sloops that may have allowed them to slip into the atmosphere. We’ll know soon.”

 

“Do we know where Vane or Billy are?” Silver asked from behind Flint, his jaw set. 

 

Both women were silent, before Max answered, “The bridge was attacked first. We do not know either of their statuses.”

 

A low booming sound came from both of their ends, and both men glanced up, just in time to see the Ranger engulfed with flames, break free of the gangway that connected it to the loading dock, and plummet down into the ground. 

 

“Fuck!” Flint shouted suddenly, slamming his fist into the console. Silver’s hands twitched, as if to touch him, but ultimately he did nothing.

 

“Engage the engines,” the captain growled. “We’re going to go after the Charleston.”

 

 

•••

 

 

When Flint had been young, newly enlisted in the Fleet, he had been thrilled at the feeling of hurtling into space, watching clouds rush by and the sky becoming thinner until they were engulfed with the dark sight of space. Now, there was just the feeling of apprehension as he gave orders to prepare for a battle with the Charleston and remaining starships.

 

As the men on the bridge hurried around, Silver turned to face Flint from in his own chair to Flint’s right. In a low voice, he said, “There’s something we need to consider. If Eleanor Guthrie fired on the Ranger, why didn’t she fire on us?” 

 

Flint studied his expression. “The Walrus has the better support. Or it could have been some revenge on Vane.”

 

The quartermaster raised an eyebrow. “Or there’s a reason they only fired on the Ranger, to take them out, and let us ascend. What if it’s a trap?”  


 

“Even if it was, we can’t allow the Charleston to get this close to Nassau without the Ranger as a buffer.” Flint told him. “If it’s a trap, it’s one we are forced to enter. We need to assume that Vane and the Ranger crew are dead, that there is no way we can turn back from this upcoming battle.” 

 

Silver’s eyes widened, before leaning even closer. “Flint, you’re talking about entering a massacre that will lead to every man on this ship being killed.”

 

“I am talking about the chance to win this war,” Flint bit out, “Know that I understand the costs that we will pay in blood.” 

 

The quartermaster’s expression flickered between anger and astonishment, but he leaned back, ordering Joji to supervise the gun crews at hand. 

 

As they watched, the Charleston appeared on the screen, a hulking amalgamation of twisted metals, far surpassing the Walrus in size. Behind them, Flint could begin to make out the rest of the fleet, smaller, yet no less deadly ships.

 

He took a deep breath in, making brief eye contact with Silver, whose mouth twisted, but gave a brief, soft nod. In that moment, Flint realized that although Silver was too aware of the costs of this upcoming battle, just like Flint, he too had that dark thrill coursing through his system that one could only feel before bloodshed. 

 

Leaning forward, Flint ordered, “Fire at will.”

 

 

•••


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies for the wait! we're approaching to the end and I hope to have more up this weekend!

The battle was vicious, the Charleston immediately returning fire on the Walrus as soon as their cannons opened. They had been outgunned, and although more ships from Nassau had followed the Walrus to battle some of the smaller Fleet ships, the Charleston was in its own a source of destruction.

 

As the bridge alarm blared around them, Flint had to shout while dodging sparks that flew over their heads, courtesy of a shot that exploded near the bridge. “Cut non-essential power to aft structure, reroute it to shields!”

 

But even as he continued to give orders, he could see how the battle was progressing, and its inevitable conclusion loomed in his mind. 

 

Beside him, Silver swore and ducked as a piece of the bridge’s ceiling fell down, causing sparks to fly over their heads. “Captain- _shit_ _-_ we’re down to two cannons, shields are at less than five percent, they’re going to-” His metal leg slid with an unpleasant sound on some of the torn up ground, and he swerved for a dangerous second before righting his balance once more. 

 

“They’re preparing to board us,” Muldoon finished Silver’s sentence.

 

An ugly feeling curdled in Flint’s stomach, at the thought of the Fleet forcing their way onto his vessel, likely to strip it of any viable parts and leave it abandoned mid-space. More importantly, he knew that once the Fleet were on their ship, it was a lost battle. The Walrus, Nassau, the entire quadrant-all deserved a fighting chance. There would be no strategic surrender. 

 

Flint squared his shoulders, hand instinctively going to the gun at his waist. His mind whirled as he quickly recalled the rough blueprints of the Charleston, part of the information that Silver had helpfully provided them with.“Let’s see them fucking try then. DeGroot, when they send a squad over, that leaves a gap in their shields for us to transport into their ship. Can you send men over through that gap?” 

 

The crewman blanched, but said, “I could send ten men, probably. Minimal gear.” 

 

Silver sharply turned to Flint. “You can’t be serious.” 

 

“I am,” Flint said in return, meeting the quartermaster’s gaze steadily. “I will lead them. You’re in command, Silver. Joji, you’re with me. Select eight other crewmen, they need to be proficient in both firearms and blades. I will meet you at the transporter.”

 

He moved to enter the lift, and the door was nearly closed before Silver wrenched it open. The door closed behind him with a thud, and it whirred down to the transporter pad. 

 

“It’s a fucking suicide mission,” Silver said, his eyes piercing. “Why are you doing this?”   


Now that they were out of sight from the crew, Flint allowed his shoulders to slump minutely, a hint of vulnerability that only Silver would be a witness to. That thought made him realize that this might be the last time he would be able to see John Silver in this life, and so he reached out to touch his arm, in an uncharacteristically gentle gesture. The quartermaster, if anything, looked more stunned by this, his eyes full of horror at Flint now.

 

The captain met his gaze once more.“You know as well as I do that we need to take the chance. We’ll head to the bridge, try to take it by force. If we don’t make it,” and at those words, Silver gave a heavy swallow, and apparently his near-inevitable death would be the cause of some emotional revelations, as Flint continued, “I want you to divert power to the life support and abandon ship with as many men who can make it. Your story won’t end today, there’s a neutral planet not far from here you can land on.”

 

The quartermaster reeled back as if struck, his expression now thunderstruck. “My story- fuck my story!” Silver shouted. Behind him, the numbers ticking down on the screen started to slow down as they drew closer to their destination. 

 

Flint took a deep breath, continued to look at Silver like he could memorize the curve of his jaw, the exact shade of blue his eyes were forged in. He reached by Silver to pause the descent of the lift, hitting the button with a click. The lift slowed to a stop. 

 

“John,” he said quietly, and before he could finish, Silver grabbed his face between his hands and drew him in for a desperate kiss. 

 

“You fucking- I love you, you bastard,” Flint heard him say, in between kisses sharp with teeth. “Don’t fucking die.” 

 

Flint kissed him back, his hands even beginning to move into Silver’s hair before he moved them back. “I know,” he murmured, or perhaps the words were lost in Silver’s mouth as well, before they reluctantly unwound as Flint hit the button to make the lift move again, and the doors soon opened. “I know.” 

 

Leaving the elevator, Flint turned around with enough time to just see Silver’s strained expression before the doors closed. 

 

He closed his jaw, making sure his gun was fully loaded, and strode into the transport chamber. 

 

He only hoped that Silver would forgive him one final time.

 

 

•••

 

 

Their attack on the Charleston, unsurprisingly, went poorly. Once they materialized on board, Flint was able to shoot two Fleet guards before the alarm on the strange ship went off, signaling the intruders’ entrance. Jodi took off with two of the men close behind him, and Flint ran down the hallway with the rest of the men behind him. 

 

They were somewhere on the same level as the bridge, from what Flint could vaguely remember of the layout of Fleet ships during his time as a lieutenant on a similar ship, and soon they were fighting more Fleet soldiers. 

 

Smashing the barrel of his gun into the face of a soldier, Flint turned just as another one shot him in the shoulder. Gritting his teeth at the sharp bloom of pain, he threw his weight down onto the man’s body, hearing bones snap. 

 

One of his crewmen took a bullet to the throat, and his blood sprayed over Flint’s face. Spluttering, Flint rolled as a Fleet soldier tried to slash at his face, kicking at the man’s legs and incapacitating him with a single blow. 

 

Behind him, the men struggled with the other guards, and before long, Flint looked up and realized that he was surrounded by guards, most of whom were pointing their guns directly at his head. Flint took a long look around him, processing the carnage around him, trying to see a way out. 

 

Then one of the Fleet soldiers hit him hard in the temple, knocking him unconscious.

 

 

•••

 

 

Back on the Walrus, Silver ordered one of the men, “Patch me through to one of the other captains.” One of the men complied, as the others watched nervously. Once Silver had returned to the bridge, he had been in a dark mood, and none of them wished to make him any more angry. 

 

Before long, Max appeared on the screen. “Anne and Jack are on one of the sloops right now heading to your position. You will have to talk to me, Mr. Silver. Where is Captain Flint?” 

 

“He’s on the Charleston trying to take it back in some last-ditch effort,” Silver spat out, in no mood for niceties. “Have you located Vane or Billy?”

 

She stiffened visibly. “Vane is suspected to have been killed on the Ranger. Billy was pulled out of the rubble, he is in a hospital now. 

 

Silver swallowed. He had never been close to Vane, but he knew that the man had been vital to the creation of Nassau as a planet free of Fleet reign, and that Flint had held him in high regard. “We’ve managed to hold off more damage from the Charleston due to Flint’s attack. Much of the rest of the force has been destroyed, but we’re one blow away from losing all power.” 

 

The dark skinned woman nodded. “Let us hope then that Flint makes it to the bridge.”

“And Guthrie?” 

 

Max gave a brief nod. “She’s been taken into custody. She was behind the attack on the Ranger.” 

 

“Mr. Silver, there’s an incoming transmission from the Charleston,” Muldoon steadily said, his hands only shaking slightly as he turned to face the quartermaster. “I’ve sent it to your screen to accept.”

 

Silver wasted no time, hitting accept and adding Max to the call as well. 

 

He barely processed the Fleet logo flashing up on the screen, as all he could see was Flint’s bloodied face suddenly magnified in front of him. Silver’s heart nearly stopped in his chest. 

 

Then he saw that hand brandishing a gun appeared at the captain’s temple, and the man who stood above Flint. “This is Admiral Hennessy with the Earth Fleet. You will stand down, or we will execute your captain and the rest of your men,” an older man with a stern face said. 

 

_Hennessy_. From what Silver could recall, that was the man who Flint had once seen as a sort of father-mentor figure, before the events with the Hamiltons had destroyed their relationship. Hennessy no doubt had any qualms siding with the Fleet over Lieutenant McGraw, and had no apparent qualms over holding a gun to his head now. 

 

Silver smiled, a dark look on his face, as he let his anger boil away into something much more vicious and calculated. “I think we both know I can’t do that,” he instead said. “You would shoot the captain anyway.”

 

Hennessy didn’t look surprised, for his credit, but the gun remained on Flint’s head. “Your ship is close to destruction. You will submit yourself to Fleet forces boarding your ship and taking over. I can assure you, most of your men will be allowed to live. Otherwise, we will destroy your vessel and execute every non-Fleet man on sight.” 

 

The quartermaster’s mind raced as his crew turned to look at him, Max silent at the corner of the screen. Then it clicked. 

 

“Why are you the only warship, admiral?” Silver asked, keeping his tone casual on purpose. He let his eyes flicker over Flint’s face, whose expression was blank. 

 

At this, the admiral did look thrown for a second, before regaining face. “I won’t stand for you stalling, pirate. We mean to make an example of Nassau. Surrender now.” 

 

“That’s what I thought,” Silver mused out loud, ignoring the incredulous looks of his crew. “See, I know very well what the Charleston is capable of. However, you didn’t go directly to Nassau. Sure, you sent Eleanor Guthrie and some soldiers to blow up the Ranger, but that was likely just to get both her and Vane out of the way. Loose ends, and whatnot. No, you went directly for the Walrus. We met you out here, but you could have easily bombed Nassau around us.”

 

The admiral was silent, so Silver continued. “Then I realized, you’ve kept the captain alive. This is no ploy to have us surrender easily, to take over Nassau, you just need him alive. And then I remembered you. You, Admiral Hennessy, you knew Flint once. You knew he would do something reckless like charge onto a Fleet ship with only a handful of men behind him. You wanted him on your ship, but still alive.”

 

“Now hang on just one moment-“ the admiral blustered, his expression growing incredulous, then angry, but Silver pressed on. “Then I noticed that those are not just any Fleet ships behind you.”

 

On the small screen, Max’s eyes suddenly widened in realization, and through the large screen, Flint’s eyes snapped up, presumably to look at Silver as well. “They carry the Fleet flag, but they are not standard issue. You’ve hired them, for reasons I can only determine to be that you are desperate for a quick show of force. But the fact is that you needed those ships to be disposable. You’re short on money, otherwise you would have just built them yourselves on Earth. Which brings me back to the captain. You’re looking for the Urca de Lima, and you have Flint, who may know where it is.”

 

The admiral had gone silent at this point, which only further encouraged Silver on. “But you don’t know that. Flint might not know, but you know I do. And you don’t want both of us dead if we’re the only ones who will be able to tell you where it is now, don’t you.” 

 

There was dead silence. Silver waited for the admiral to speak, his eyes fixed on the screen. 

 

There was a soft chuckle, as Hennessy shook his head. “I knew Flint was able to scheme, but I didn’t realize that his quartermaster was sharp as well. But I also know that you would do anything to avoid having harm come to the captain, and I would wager that means you’re the one who knows where the Urca is.” 

 

Silver fought to maintain a flat expression, but Hennessy saw through it. “You will tell me where the Urca de Lima is. Which is why I’ll ask you again,” and Hennessy cocked the trigger on his gun, and Flint closed his eyes, “Surrender your ship. We will let your men go, only take you in for questioning. Or we kill you all, starting with your captain.”

 

Silver stared at the screen, and Flint’s eyes slowly opened. They made eye contact on the screen, and Silver’s heart was pounding, yet he couldn’t drag his eyes away from Flint’s green gaze, steady even in his defeat. 

 

“No,” he whispered, loud enough for Hennessy to hear.

 

Timed seemed to slow down, and then there was a gunshot.

 

 

•••


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long delay, coursework has been keeping me busy lol. I'm hoping to finish this up soon, move onto some other new pieces :)

•••

 

 

Silver jolted, and the transmission cut short. “Fuck!”

 

“We’re getting back the transmission now, sir,” DeGroot told him, fingers flying over the screen. 

 

From the corner of his own screen, Max, her face pale, disconnected the video. Silver screwed his eyes shut.

 

He knew that Flint’s plan was suicidal. He knew that it was going to end badly. But now, faced with Flint’s death, everything else faded away into the background. He would never see Flint’s annoyed glare, never feel that shorn hair beneath his fingertips, never argue and fall into bed with him-

 

“Captain, we’re getting an incoming transmission from one of the Fleet sloops,” an ensign told him. 

 

Silver hit accept on the screen, and was greeted by the sight of Jack Rackham on his screen. 

 

“John Silver,” the man said, his forehead cut badly, but otherwise looking no worse for the wear. “We have reason to believe that Charles Vane boarded the Charleston less than ten minutes ago.”

 

Something tightened in his chest, and Silver’s mind reeled. “Vane? I thought he was dead.” 

 

“So did we,” Rackham scoffed, “But we’ve recovered all the bodies from the Ranger rubble. Also, he sent us a message. He’s-“

 

Suddenly, another transmission came through on the bridge screen, and Silver’s knees nearly buckled underneath him at the sight of both Flint and Vane, alive and breathing, on the screen. 

 

Even though they were on different ships, Flint’s green eyes still found him instantly, and Silver’s mouth parted as a sharp wave of relief flooded his veins. 

 

“Close fucking call,” Vane said, still holding a smoking gun. “Hennessy is dead. The rest of them have been taken out.” 

 

“Silver, we’re coming back,” Flint said, and _oh._ Silver’s legs then did buckle, but he steadied himself on the captain’s chair. Not one of the crew said a word, though they all seemed to be carefully not to directly look at the quartermaster. 

 

“I’ll see you at the transporter,” Silver said, his voice hoarse and barely recognizable, and as soon as the transmission cut, he was out of the bridge in a flash.

 

 

•••

 

 

Down at the transporter, Silver watched as there was a crackle of electricity as the overworked mechanisms hummed, and then Flint and Vane were right there. 

  
Silver didn’t make the conscious effort to move, but then he was right there in front of the two captains, and he heard Vane snort from beside Flint.

 

_Flint_. Silver was not one for emotional shows, but he buried his face in Flint’s neck, not caring of the blood or sweat that would no doubt stain his clothes as well, nor the presence of Vane, who seemed to be holding Flint up. 

 

“I’m here,” James Flint murmured, and honestly, he should be embarrassed, acting like some old Earth romance novel, but Flint was here and alive and oh, if that didn’t suddenly put Silver’s priorities in check. 

 

Silver pulled back after what could have been moments or years, and ran an assessing gaze over Flint’s body. Now he could see that Flint’s arm was bent at a wrong angle, and there was a deep gash along his lower leg that had caused him to lean heavily into Vane’s side. 

 

“You bastard,” he said, almost wonderingly, “Now I know why you tend to stay on board on raids, you would’ve been dead ten years ago at this rate,” and Flint laughed. 

 

“Says the man with one leg,” he has the audacity to tell Silver, and if he didn’t look absolutely terrible, Silver would have certainly kicked him just for good measure. 

 

“We’re going to medical,” Silver ordered, taking Flint’s weight from Vane. “Captain.” 

 

They made it to the hallway before Flint groaned, clutching his side, and Silver hoists more of his weight over his shoulder, wincing himself at the strain this was putting on his stump. “Look at us, we’re falling apart between the two of us,” he muttered, mindful of Flint’s arm as he walked them into the waiting lift. 

 

“We have a problem with Eleanor Guthrie,” Flint told him, his eyes serious, as Silver stretched out to hit the button for them to head to medical. “We’re likely going to have to execute her. I’m not worried about Vane, not anymore, but the last thing that Nassau needs is its citizens seeing some ruthless Fleet-inspired law being enacted.” 

 

“I know. But at least it seems that Captain Vane isn’t going to be compromised over her anymore, not with what she did today.”

 

Flint shifts slightly, and Silver could see as his mind clicked. “You knew that he wasn’t compromised. Why move Billy then to Vane’s ship then?”

 

“Rackham was the one to think of moving Billy, you must be concussed,” Silver tried, but Flint’s steely gaze from this close quarters fixed on him.

 

“Rackham told me that Anne was the one to bring it up. And I daresay that you somehow managed to convince her that Vane had a problem, and moving Billy was the solution. You just had to act surprised when Rackham told you that morning.” 

 

The quartermaster considered lying for a briefest moment, then remembered what it felt like to think that Flint had been ripped away from him. He turned his head more, a sly grin on his face. “Guess I have a gift for convincing angry redheads.” 

 

“Why?” Flint probed. 

 

Silver swallowed, suddenly nervous to meet Flint’s eyes, and looked back at the panel in front of them. “I wanted there to be a reason for you to keep me on board, I guess. It would’ve been easy for you to reassign me onto another ship, and I didn’t want that. I’m a selfish man.”  


He expected Flint to lash out at him, but whipped his head back when the captain dropped his head onto Silver’s shoulder. 

 

Flint’s voice was quiet. “I’m glad you’re back.” 

 

Silver’s heart thudded in his chest at the words, and he quickly pressed a kiss into the captain’s blood-crusted hair as the doors open, and they both hobble out.

 

 

•••

 

 

Flint is kept, to his displeasure, in the medical bay for nearly the entire time that they remain in orbit. 

 

The first two nurses sent in the room come out pale, one of them even sniffing, and by the fifth nurse (his hands were still shaking when Silver came down), he has to intervene. 

 

The head doctor, a statuesque dark-skinned woman by the name of Dr. Madi Scott, diplomatically ignored Flint’s threats to throw all of the medical crew off the Walrus, and shook off Silver’s warning. 

 

As she closed the door behind her, Silver paced outside, half-expecting Flint to actually snap and try tear her head off. 

 

The yelling cut off within five minutes. 

Ten minutes later, Dr. Scott exited the room with the briefest hint of a smile on her face, nodding at Silver as she left.

 

With a raised brow, Silver walked in Flint’s room only to see him glowering at the wall, his leg now up in traction. 

 

The quartermaster has a rush of gratitude and awe towards Dr. Scott.

 

“Tell me what happened at the captain’s meeting,” Flint demanded the moment he saw Silver, and the dark haired man stifled a smile. 

 

Silver oversaw the collection of the Charleston, the disposal of the bodies that both Vane and Flint had caused, and even issued a series of declaration to the rest of the Fleet with the help of Billy, once the man got out of the hospital. 

 

Billy stayed as Vane’s quartermaster, once he saw how well Silver and Flint work together at running the ship still, even if one is confined to a bed. Vane kept himself busy with overseeing the rebuilding of Nassau.

 

Max was the one to bring up the declarations at one of the captain’s meetings. They used the slaughter of the Charleston as a way to further Nassau’s propaganda, to effectively scare them away from trying to come back to claim the planet. 

 

They also agreed that Silver is the prime candidate to be the face of this next chapter in Nassau’s history. 

 

“My name is John Silver, and I’ve got a long fucking memory,” Silver told the camera, his eyes glinting, and hit send on the log, to be sent to the far Fleet ports. 

 

“By the stars, don’t let me get on your bad side,” Billy muttered, and Silver gave a sharp grin in return. 

 

Nassau was young and strong, and with Max to oversee it as governor, Anne faithfully at her side, it began to rebuild itself. Rackham however is sent on diplomatic missions to build alliances with other rebelling planets, and although Silver has no doubt that he would rather be planet-side with Max and Anne, his mission is vital in ensuring the survival of the planet. 

 

Flint watched the video log without saying a word, and then managed to pull Silver on top of him in the medical bed. Silver was happy to comply until they discover that even recently having a leg in traction is not at all conducive to athletically fulfilling sexual appetite, much to Flint’s frustration and Silver’s amusement.   
  
(“You shit,” Flint growled at him, as he struggled to pull Silver’s shirt off with only one arm, half-sitting up on the bed, as Silver laughed.

 

Silver ducked away from him then, getting off the bed. Flint, confined to the bed, gave a betrayed look, reaching to him. 

  
“You’ll just have to make it up to me sometime,” Silver teased, before dropping to his knees.)

 

By the time Flint is given a medical discharge, they’ve managed to dock on Nassau again. Silver found him standing on the upper deck, watching as they begin to rebuild, to fix Nassau around them.

 

The captain glanced up, obviously hearing the tapping sound of Silver’s crutch. He’s taken to using it on the ship, as even the metal leg has its discomforts, and Billy had informed him that there’s something quite scary on hearing Silver before seeing him.

 

Silver joined Flint on the railing, as they watch the dull glint of a hull being built before their eyes, below them in the crevasse. 

 

What Silver doesn’t expect, however, are Flint’s next words. “I’m going to retire,” the captain told him, eyes fixed on the hull below them. 

 

“Retire?” Silver repeated. “Pirates don’t retire.” Something low swoops in his gut, like a vulture looking for the dead.

 

“This one does,” Flint grumbled, but then turned to face him. “But I see the end of Captain Flint. I knew it was going to happen the moment I left the Fleet.”  


 

An uneasy feeling filled his gut. He wrenched his gaze away from Flint, unable to look him in the eye. Flint frowned, reaching out to touch his shoulder, but the quartermaster stepped back, putting space between them. 

 

“I can’t,” Silver grit out, but his usual, well, silver tongue failed him in that moment, and he had to take a deep breath. “You know I can’t just follow you off this ship.”  


 

“I know you can’t,” Flint’s voice is infuriatingly calm, like he’s considered all of this. “I want you to have the Walrus.”  


 

Silver met his gaze, and he’s struck by the raw look in Flint’s eyes, like the man knew what Silver had to do, but was still hurt by it. “I don’t want you to leave me,” he said, quietly. 

 

“One day, Long John Silver will die. You’ll find me then,” Flint said, and it’s everything Silver wanted him to say, and everything he hated to hear, so he closed the gap between them, his mouth bruising against the captain’s, demanding to be closer, to memorize the shape of his lips and the taste of his mouth. 

 

Flint gave a low groan, clutching at Silver’s shoulders, and they’re pressed from hip to shoulder, but still too far apart. Silver let his hands run through Flint’s hair, and it’s too much and not enough.

 

 

 

•••


	11. Chapter 11

•••

 

The wind whistles by the small house, loud enough for the windowpane to shake slightly. It’s past the official major storm season for Minerva, but as Flint has lived here for the past six years, he knows that it will be several sol cycles until the weather becomes less tempestuous.

 

Flint sets his book down so he can close the window, but leaves the curtains open so that the hazy red sunset can still filter through the glass, giving the front room a quiet glow. He spent the entirety of the day turning over the soil for the upcoming crop season, and he spends a minute flexing his hands, stretching them out so they won’t ache quite so much the next morning.

 

It’s a quiet life he leads on Minerva. He came across the planet soon after he left the Walrus, after boarding several inconspicuous trading vessel to make his way, far away from Nassau. The house was owned by an old woman who was looking to sell it to move closer to one of the cities to be with her family, and Flint was able to offer just enough charisma and credits in order to persuade her to sell it to him without any official paperwork. 

 

He wakes up early, tends to the field in the back, reads in the afternoon, and goes to sleep at night. It’s an easy cycle, day after day, only occasionally going into town. He doesn’t mind the solitude, even if it gets hard on rainy days when his leg aches and his limbs become stiff as the clouds gather in the orange sky. 

 

Flint doesn’t get much in terms of news from other planets, given his solitary lifestyle. When he first moved to the planet, he had been in town more, and in the first year, he had been able to keep up with the famed starship Walrus. As he was in town once to buy seed, he had seen the townspeople gathered in front of the public screens, all watching a riveting speech by an apparently famous one-legged pirate king.

 

Flint had made the executive decision to limit his exposure to the outside world after that, and only went into town when necessary. 

 

From beneath the previously occupied chair, Toledo gave a small snore where he was curled up. When buying the house, the old woman had warned him about the rabid dog pack that roamed around the land at night. Flint had acknowledged her, but did not expect one of the dogs to have birthed a litter in the old shed out back, leaving one of the smaller puppies behind one cold night as the dogs soon discovered that Flint was too careful to leave out food for them. 

 

Flint had named the puppy after a city from an old Earth book, one of the few gifts that he had from the Hamiltons after all these years. 

 

Suddenly, Toledo’s ears perked up, and he sat up, staring at the door. Flint then hears a faint whirring sound, and he glances to underneath the table where he keeps both a blade and a phaser. 

 

The whirring sound stops, suddenly, and before Flint can make a move, there’s a knock at the door. 

 

He frowns, getting the knife from below the table, and moves to the door. He can’t hear whoever it is from the other side, but doesn’t want to risk attacking a lone town child, and opens the door. 

 

His hair and beard are far longer than the last time Flint has seen him, the skin on his face more lined, but those blue eyes have not changed. 

 

John Silver meets his gaze steadily. “It’s been quite some time,” he says, as Flint takes a breath in. 

 

It’s been many years since he’s seen him, but Flint opens the door more, watches as Silver’s mouth opens a bit at the sight of him. “Come in,” Flint says, and Silver follows him into the home.

 

 

•••

 

 

Flint sets down the mugs of wine, one across from Silver, and the other man stops from where he’s scratching the back of Toledo’s head. 

 

“What’s this, then? I thought Minerva was a dry planet,” he says, taking a sip of the liquid. 

 

“It is. This is homemade,” Flint replies. “The soil is good for grapes.” 

 

Silver pauses almost comically, before huffing a quick laugh. The sound is foreign, and something in Flint’s chest clenches. “Huh. Guess I didn’t imagine you being quite this good at becoming a farmer after all.” He takes another sip. “It’s not bad.”

 

“Well, it’s been quite some time,” Flint says too easily, and Silver sets down the mug. He doesn’t continue, even as Silver studies him.

 

“Your hair- I thought it would be grey by now, for some reason,” Silver says when it’s clear Flint isn’t going to continue. “You’ve barely aged.”

 

Flint does react a bit to that, but bites his tongue, turning to look into his cup. Silver looks at him with a strange expression on his face. “You don’t like it when I say that. Perhaps you have, however, in other ways, but not physically. But I know I’ve aged quite a lot. Is it strange to see me like this?” He gestured towards a scar on his cheek, a piercing in his ear, that Flint doesn’t know the story behind. 

 

Flint looks up again. “I still recognize you,” he says. 

 

Something in Silver’s face shifts slightly, and he swallows. “I’ve done it, you know. Last month, we settled a base on Venus, and negotiated a treaty with what’s left of the Fleet. They’ve been all but gone since we burned down their capital on Earth.”

 

Flint nods. He’s heard news of such, it would have been hard to avoid that much. “Vane?”

 

“He’s stationed on Venus, working with Rackham to recruit as many prisoners of war into rebuilding. Max and Anne are still on Nassau. Last time I heard, they even have a child.” Silver pauses, as if reflecting for a moment. “The war, it wasn’t clean. Towards the end, the Fleet sent out the youngest, the freshest meat, their last stand against us pirates. I was there, I saw it. We killed a lot of them. I killed a lot of them. They’re going to want to put me on trial, even now.”   


“And you?” Flint asks, keeping his tone steady. “What do you want?” 

 

Silver’s eyes dart up to meet his. “I had to be the one to do those bad things. I’ve made my peace with that.”

 

“What do you want?” Flint repeats, and the man stands up abruptly, his leg whirring to accommodate for the change in balance. 

 

“What do- fuck, James, what do you mean?” Silver says insistently, taking a step forward. “What do I _want_? I know what I’ve wanted since the day you stepped off the Walrus. How about, what do you want?”

 

Flint rises then too, his blood rushing at Silver’s avoidance of his question. “What do you want?” he asks again, seeing Silver’s eyes narrow. 

 

He’s pushed back suddenly, as Silver slams into him. He’s all muscle, more than Flint expects, and behind the two of them, Toledo makes a low growling sound, but quiets when Flint doesn’t struggle. 

 

“I want you to tell me I’m a monster. That I need to leave, that you’ve been fine by yourself,” Silver tells him, and Flint realizes that there’s a desperate look in his eyes, the way he’s clutching at Flint’s shirt. “Tell me to go.” 

 

“Why would I want to do that?” Flint says then, finally, and Silver makes a low sound in his throat. He pulls Flint in for a bruising kiss, and it’s harsh but familiar, the way that Silver’s hands find their way onto Flint’s hips, pulling him in, and Flint tugs at his hair, works his bottom lip in between his teeth. 

 

Silver breaks the kiss, panting slightly. “I’m not the same,” he says, haltingly, “I’m not a good man. I have the same faults, new scars. I don’t know how long until anything in my past will catch up to me-“but Flint kisses him softer then, running a thumb under his hairline at the back of his neck. 

 

“I told you that you would find me, didn’t I?” he answers, and then Silver is pulling him in for another deep kiss.

 

They make their way to the bedroom, where Silver gives a chuckle at the stacks of books on the bookshelf before Flint pulls him to the bed in the corner. He pushes Silver onto the bed, his beard a welcome drag on the other man’s neck.

 

They undress each other, and it’s like before, but also quieter in a way, as Silver runs his hands down Flint’s sides like he did all those years ago, and Flint’s mouth can map out new and old scars. As Flint grasps them both in his hand, he watches as the muscles in Silver’s arm bunch as he holds Flint tightly, eyes never leaving his face. Flint comes with a sigh, his head lolling back, and soon after, Silver bites a moan into the side of his neck as he too chases his release in the tight heat of the man’s body.

 

Afterwords, when Silver detaches his leg, letting it fall with a hard thud onto the ground and lays back down beside him, Flint’s still catching his breath. They lie on top of the sheets, the cool air welcome on sweaty skin, and Flint senses that Silver wants to talk. 

 

Silver turns to face him, pressing a kiss on the round of his shoulder. “I don’t know how to do this,” he murmurs, and it’s not quite fear in his tone, but apprehension. “I’ve spent these past years destroying anything in my path. What if that’s all I know how to do?” 

 

Flint waits until his breathing has steadied before turning his head as well. “What I’ve built here, I didn’t think I could do it,” he says. “After Thomas, Miranda, you, I didn’t think I could have happiness. But I did find it here.”

 

Silver gives a small smirk at that. “Don’t think I’m going to just let it slide that you’ve adopted a dog in my absence.” His smirk fades away, however, as he continues to look at Flint. “But then what? What if what you have here doesn’t include me?”

 

“I’ve learned to accept how everything works out in the present,” is what Flint says instead, staring at the fine line that runs up Silver’s thigh. “You have your faults, I have mine. That’s the way it’ll be.”

 

Silver stares at him for a long moment. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I thought you would be more bitter about all of this. It’s been six years, that’s longer than before, even.” He tenses then. “Are you angry?” 

 

Flint exhales. “I was. But this time, it was different. I told you that I would be waiting.” 

 

The man gives a huff. “You said I’d find you. But do you really want to find me?” 

 

Flint meets his eyes again. “I have,” he says instead, and Silver rests his head on his shoulder, pressing another kiss there. 

  
They drift off into sleep soon afterwards, wrapped in the sheets and each other’s bodies.

 

In the morning, when Flint gets up to let Toledo out of the house, Silver will wake with a start, still expecting the quiet hum of a ship, but he relaxes when Flint reenters the room.

 

Flint will roll his eyes and tell Silver to move, that he’s got plenty of work that he expects Silver to help with, and Silver will groan, claim his leg is still too swollen from all the traveling, and he’ll tempt Flint back into bed until the sun is high in the sky. Flint will grumble about how clean the house was before Silver arrived, and Silver will retort that Flint just didn't notice the dirt that he’s dragged in before. 

 

They’ll talk about their future again and again, but for now, Silver stays, and Flint adjusts, and it works for them. 

 

The future is uncertain, but now that they’ve found each other, after all, the uncertainty doesn’t seen quite as vast anymore.

 

 

•••

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here is the conclusion. thanks for following this adventure!
> 
> as always, I appreciate every comment/kudos :) 
> 
> [Come say hello to me on tumblr or talk to me about silverflint!](www.starrynighttrek.tumblr.com)


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